Pieces of Eight
by Pmp2a-Trish
Summary: Heyes and the Kid are called up to help the gangs of Wyoming. Non-traditional story, just a bit different.


**Pieces of Eight**

Disclaimer: I may or may not have just finished watching "Black Sails." And I may or may not recall a bit of the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie. So, this is what I would consider a "non-traditional" story.

* * *

In the distance, just out of sight, a storm rumbled. As they pulled up to the hitching rail, another clasp of thunder echoed off the buildings. Taking a glance at the other, each wondered if the approaching storm was a sign of bad things to come.

The town they had been called to had no name – a town long since forgotten by anyone with so much as an ounce of respectability. For everyone else – outlaws specifically, it was only referred to with a knowing look, a nod of the head, or – when it had to be written – 'the town.'

The few buildings that remained standing swayed slightly in the wind. The remnants of the bank, long ago destroyed by an ill-advised robbery using explosives, stood as a ghostly reminder of the danger inherent to the area.

Only the saloon remained relatively intact. No longer a working establishment, it was merely four walls that kept out the dust and the wind. It allowed travelers a place to stop and rest a spell before heading back out to whatever destination was unfortunate enough to meet their acquaintance. The walls creaked with each gust of wind, the windows remained boarded, a long ago attempt to protect the remaining glass from further damage inflicted by its inhabitants. The steps gave slightly under their boots as they softly tread towards the entrance.

Once inside the room, their eyes adjusted to the dark, random lanterns giving off the eeriest of lights. This was the one place where the sun refused to shine.

As they walked through the room, the smattering of men looked up to see who had entered. Each placed their hands on the handle of their revolvers, ready. They did not show bravado, it wasn't needed. Anyone that dared to come into this place had damned well be willing to shoot their way out.

Each of the former outlaws held their heads high, acutely aware of the danger that surrounded them, yet refusing to allow an ounce of apprehension escape. They had been called. Their presence had been requested. Only the most desperate of men would chose this location to meet and as they approached the table in the back room, their eyes fell on the men they were there to see, Wheat and Kyle.

Each was dirty, dirtier than normal. Kyle appeared gaunt, his round face had thinned, a consequence of not enough meals or too much stress, Heyes wasn't sure which. His hands fidgeted with a broken piece of the table. He was nervous, more nervous than either of the outlaws had ever seen him. Wheat sat emotionless, unreadable.

At the table, Heyes sat in the chair nearest the wall, oddly angled to face both his old friends and the main room - he would not leave his back unprotected. Kid stood to his right, casually leaning against that same wall, one foot propped up against the boards, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his right hand never far from his holster. Though seemingly relaxed, he put off an air of authority. The men in the main room might not know his name, but they would know his kind - a gunslinger, tried, true, tested, and most importantly, dangerous.

Taking a cursory glance back towards the entrance from which they came, Heyes spoke, softly, "We got here as fast as we could."

Taking his right hand, Wheat pulled an item from his breast pocket and slid it across the table, directly in front of Heyes. As soon as he released the item, he pulled his hand back.

Heyes' eyes doubled as his breath quickened. The Biblical mark of the beast would have been preferable to seeing the Spanish coin before him. Using the tips of his fingers, he slid it back across the table, his hand quickly retreating once it was in front of his old friend. "That belongs to the leader of Devil's Hole."

Pushing it back across the table, Wheat softly spoke, "Not today, it don't."

His eyes never left the coin. "Wheat, I don't know what kind of trouble…"

"We ain't askin' please." He spoke, deadly.

Glancing up, he saw a change in the eyes looking back at him. Standing, he slid the coin back across the table once more, his stare was resolute. He leaned over the table, his eyes were dark, and his voice deepened, "We came here, as friends. But the Kid and I are going to walk out that door and we don't expect to see that coin ever again."

As he turned, he heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer clicking in place. Turning, Kyle stood up slowly, revolver in hand, his gun - aimed at the heart of his former leader. Heyes' eyes darkened as he looked down at his former gang member, and in that moment he saw what he could only describe as shame in the eyes of the little man. Kyle's draw was as slow as molasses. The Kid could fire all six bullets long before Kyle could fire one. His threat was useless, but the simple fact that Kyle held his gun against him sent a rush of anger through him. Just as he prepared to display his own speed to the draw, a series of guns were drawn behind them – hired guns, he knew. Cursing himself for a moment of carelessness; he took a glance towards the main room where he saw three men, each tested and dangerous, each also aiming at his heart.

Turning back to his old friends, he smiled a dark smile, "You boys are making a mistake, one you're not going to be able take back, one that you will never make with us again."

Wheat walked around the table, coin in hand. Placing it in Heyes' breast pocket, he nodded, "This would be yours."

As they exited the saloon, every eye watched cautiously as the two reformed outlaws were escorted out, guns at their back. As they walked into the warm air of the day, a collective sigh was heard, each patron glad that whatever had just taken place had ended without a gun being fired.

As Kid and Heyes climbed into their saddles, a hired gun approached each man, removed their weapons, emptied the chambers and then returned them to their holsters. A look of irritation passed between them. "Are you sure you don't want to tie us up while you're at it?" Heyes asked, sarcastically.

* * *

The storm continued to rumble in the distance as the day wore on. They were a solid day's ride from where they were going. In addition to forging at least two rivers, they would have to go through an area controlled by the Indians – an area that no sane man would dare to enter. Just on the other side of the reservation was their destination.

The ride remained quiet, no man dared to speak a word. Wheat rode in front, Kyle just behind him, the hired guns flanked the boys on each side and taking up the rear.

As they traveled, and after the bulk of the anger had subsided, they would occasionally try to start a conversation, just to get some kind of hint to what they were about to face. Yet, none of the men seemed inclined to discuss anything, silence greeting each question. In short order, they abandoned their endeavors and consigned themselves to not knowing, yet.

As the sun slowly began to set, they made their way up an embankment, a secluded place to camp for the night. It had been years since they had been in this part of Nebraska, and as their horses struggled over the terrain, they were once again reminded why this area of the territory had been chosen – so that only the most desperate would enter.

Silence followed them as they came down off their horses, Wheat took the horses for water, Kyle laid out the bedrolls, one of the hired men created the fire while the other looked for food. Kid and Heyes sat on the ground, under the continuous eye of the remaining watchman.

As dinner was served, the mood lightened, some. Though still being watched, the hired guns relaxed together, chatting aimlessly, but refusing to discuss anything about their current predicament.

Kid leaned in close to Heyes, "Stan Huntsman."

Heyes nodded affirmatively as he looked towards the tallest of the hired guns, "I knew he looked familiar. Last I heard, he was running with the Gatlin gang."

Kid thought for a moment. "I ran across Gatlin in Phoenix last year, he was telling me about a couple of guns running with him, Thomas Gentry and Raymond Travers."

They both looked towards the other men.

"Could be worse." He tried to recall what he had heard about the Gatlin boys.

"You figure it out yet?" Kid asked as he looked back towards their old friends.

"I don't think this was their idea. Wheat ain't this smart… or this stupid."

"Heyes, it's been three years."

"Yeah, and it's supposed to be just the leaders of the gangs."

"So, if they're wanting us…" They shared a mournful look.

"It's bad."

"Alright boys." Wheat announced as he stood and with Kyle behind him, approached his former leaders. Handing two sets of raw hide to Kyle, he took a deep breath, "Heyes, Kid, we hate to do this, but we can't risk you getting the drop on us in the middle of the night."

"Ya know, if you'd tell Heyes and me what's going on, we might be more inclined to help."

"You'll find out tomorrow." Stan spoke definitively from the side as he rechecked the bullets in the chamber.

Kyle knelt down in front of the Kid, tying his hands tightly, refusing to meet his leader's eyes. As he moved to the next set of hands, Heyes growled, "Don't be thinking we're gonna forget this, Kyle."

Taking shallow breaths, Kyle muttered, "I didn't wanna…" meeting Heyes' eyes, he stopped mid-sentence, stood up, and walked away.

* * *

To his back, he heard the Kid struggle, again. It had been an hour since everyone had fallen asleep, an hour of hearing him pull at the bindings, get aggravated, just to try again. "Don't bother, Kid. They're tight."

"I know, who do you think taught him how to tie a knot!"

Rolling to his back, Heyes stared up at the sky. "They're in trouble. Whatever this is, the boys are in trouble."

Kid stopped his struggle and equally relaxed. "A simple 'please' would have been nice."

Heyes took a moment in thought. "Who's running the Hilltop gang these days?"

Kid took a moment, "Frank Williams, I think."

"He's too afraid of you."

"The Cleaver twins?"

"Maybe." Heyes thought for a moment, "Parsons was killed a year ago, can't be him."

"Didn't Shelby take over for him?" He thought for a moment. "He'd be scared enough."

"Scared enough to hire guns, but brave enough to be there when we show up?"

"Depends on how bad it is. Maybe he thinks he can calm you down, once we get there."

"He'd be wrong, dead wrong."

* * *

The house sat just on the edge of the reservation. It was dilapidated, to put it nicely. Once the home of the Agent of Indian Affairs, it was now a shell of its former glory. Vines grew up the sides, the paint was peeled and coming off in sheets, the shutters – what few were left – hung loosely to the nails that vainly attempted to hold them in place, the windows, some were intact, but most broken through. Outside, scores of men sat lazily under the trees and along the front porch. The horses crowded the barn behind the house.

As they approached, they spotted several of their old friends. Lobo, Hank, and Crusher sat with cards in hand. As the horses neared, they put down their cards and stood to greet their old leaders. Coming down from their horses, Kid and Heyes glanced about. At least five different gangs were present, maybe all six, they had been out of the game too long to know for sure.

Giving a cursory nod to those they knew, they walked to the front door, a sense of dread welling in their throats. As they passed through the door frame, they both noted – Wheat and Kyle did not follow. Their suspicions had been right, they had just been following orders.

The house was dark, candles and lanterns lighting the space within. In the main sitting room sat a long table, around it five men rested uncomfortably in chairs, their partners just behind them. Hilltop, Gatlin, Cleaver, Hansen, and Duck River gangs were all there. At the head of the table the leader of Duck River, Shelby, motioned towards the only empty chair.

Heyes tucked his thumbs in his gun belt, "That chair is reserved for the leader of Devil's Hole. I'll be glad to get him."

Shelby spoke, "Wheat is no more a leader than I am President of these United States. That chair belongs to you. And just so you know Heyes, you won't be leaving until you hear us out."

"If at all, if you don't agree." One of the Cleaver twins threatened.

With a nod from the Kid, they reluctantly made their way to their place, and Heyes sat, complacently.

"Alright. Shall we begin?" Shelby asked.

Each man withdrew their own coin, placing it on the table. Heyes, alone, left it in his pocket. When the men turned to him, he belligerently smiled, "The coin belongs to the leader of the gang. That isn't me." He stated bluntly, giving no room for discussion.

"You might change your mind when you hear what has happened." Shelby nodded to the man behind him, who disappeared towards the back of the house. "Do you boys remember the Snake River gang?"

Heyes nodded, yes.

"About a month ago, they gave refuge to a gang out of Colorado, a gang run by Lucas Adams."

Heyes shifted uncomfortably, behind him, Kid did the same.

"You've heard of him?"

"We heard he robbed a train outside of Denver, killed everyone on board."

"That would be him." Shelby glanced back as a man was escorted into the room. He was young, barely 25, but time had aged him. He was gaunt, dark circles around his eyes, a look of shock still etched on his face. Shelby's partner pulled up a chair and directed the man to sit. "This is Stewart Lambros. He's the only man left from Snake River."

Heyes and Kid shared a shocked glance.

"After dark, Lucas and his men went around the camp, killed each man as they slept. Stewart here, was left for dead. Come to find out, Bannermen are on Adam's trail, offering a $50,000 bounty for him and his men. With that high of a prize, there's not a gang in Wyoming willing to give them sanctuary – they know that. So, now they're looking for somewhere safe, somewhere impenetrable. And there's only one hideout in the territory that the law can't get into without a blood bath. There is only one hideout that would take an army to pull them out."

"Devil's Hole." Heyes said, breathlessly.

"Devil's Hole." He confirmed as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "They aren't there yet. Last we've heard, they are still holed up west of Cheyenne. The Cleaver boys were able to get out, but lost half their men doing so. By my calculations, they will be at the Hole in less than two weeks' time."

"If the army can't get into Devil's Hole, what makes Adams think he can?"

"A lack of leadership within the Hole. Difference between the Army and Adams, is Adams knows the Hole can only defend itself with a solid leader. That would not be Wheat Carlson."

"What's the plan?" Kid asked.

"If we had a plan, we wouldn't need you two." He took a deep breath, "If Adams takes over Devil's Hole, he'll run ram shod over this territory. This is about more than just your boys. If he starts robbin' here, he's going to stain the dirt of this territory red. It won't take long before the law comes down and destroys all of us. They won't be able to tell the difference from our gangs and his. Our way of life, our very lives, won't be worth a paper dollar. We have to stop him, we're the only ones that can, and we have to stop him now." He stopped for a moment, "Look, Wheat told us the rumors about you two are true. We know what we are asking you to sacrifice. But Heyes, Kid - Adams will kill every man, woman, and child that gets in his way. This is about more than just a bunch of outlaws."

"Mind if my partner and I have a moment?" Heyes asked.

* * *

The door closed behind them with a slam that rattled the house. Kid walked over to the window and looked out. He could see the Devil's Hole boys, still playing cards. But as he looked longer, he realized that they were barely looking at the cards, their attention, their nerves were focused on something else. "This is why this gang was created."

"I know that." As he looked out the same window, he recalled the day of its inception. Word had gotten out that a bounty hunter from Texas was trolling Wyoming. Not content with just turning men in, he would kill them and drag their broken bodies into town. Big Jim sent word to every gang that he trusted, the five that were represented today, and they formed a partnership, a cooperation to be used only when the threat was too great to be dealt with alone. Together, they were able to drive the beaten, bruised, and barely alive bounty hunter out of Wyoming, deep into Nebraska – never to be heard from again.

Taking the coin from his pocket, Heyes ran his thumb over the Spanish crest. A piece of eight, a treasure left over from a by-gone era. Big Jim's grandfather had been a pirate. As a child, Jim had been told fantastical stories of life on the high seas – the privateering, the camaraderie among men, the women. Upon his death, he left his only grandson the remains of his ill-gotten gains. Once congress made such currency illegal, Jim melted most of it down to something he could trade, but held onto a handful of coins as keepsakes. When the time came and they needed an emblem to identify the leaders of the gangs that had taken the oath – the pieces of eight became the perfect symbol.

"We can't let the boys get slaughtered or let them lose Devil's Hole."

"I know that. Kid, if the governor finds out…"

"We'll lose our amnesty." Kid thought for a moment, "Even if we're helping them catch a killer, saving all those lives?"

"It's not about Adams. It's about working with the other gangs, it's about being on the wrong side of the law - again. That's the one thing we promised not to do. The Governor won't care why." He paused, "Shelby's killed at least three men, the Cleaver twins – five. How many lives have been taken by just the men sitting in that room, not to mention the men out in that yard? We're aiding and abetting outlaws, murderers. Just finding out we are in this house will be enough to lose the deal."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

From behind, the door opened, Shelby entered, cautiously. "You boys decide?"

Heyes turned, anger boiling in his chest once again. "We don't appreciate being brought here with guns."

"I didn't want to do it that way. But I remember how you left the last time. We figured you wouldn't come willingly. If it helps, Wheat protested something awful."

"It doesn't." An uncomfortable silence stilled the air. "Parsons?"

The blond man held his head high. "Dead. About a year ago." Taking a hesitant step forward, he took a deep breath. "You know Heyes, after that day in the valley, I couldn't find it in myself to trust him again. But what was I supposed to do? He had been both my partner and my leader for almost three years."

"Because of him, eight men died. Three of them were Devil's Hole, three of them were _my _men." He tried to keep the anger in, but it slipped out all the same.

"I know that. We should have kicked him out that day, but we didn't. Less than a month later we stopped a train. As we were loading up the haul, I heard a scream. He'd drug a passenger behind a bush, decided to have a little fun with her. As soon as we got back to camp, I told the boys. Only by God's grace did he make it out alive. When I heard what happened to him in Denver, well… I can't bring myself to say that I was all that upset."

Heyes turned and stared back out the window. It had been three years since the gangs had been called up. A band of bounty hunters – former Army men, had been trying to take down several of the gangs. They were supposed to just scare them, drive them back into Montana, but instead, Parsons had set a trap. In the chaos, the hunters were killed, along with several outlaws. Heyes could still taste the blood from his cut lip, he could still feel Kid pulling him back, yelling in his ear, "he's not worth it." He had almost killed Parsons, two more swings and he would have sent him on to Heaven or Hell – he didn't even care which. As the Kid and Wheat pulled him out of the room, he angrily spat, "Every night you go to bed breathin', you better thank God for Kid Curry!"

His men had trusted him, his men had died because of that trust. No amount of time would ever fix that. That day, as they had walked to their horses, he handed Kid the coin, stating emphatically, "I never want to see that damned thing again."

* * *

"We do this our way. Or we don't do it all." Heyes addressed the men in the main room. "If one man steps out of line, the Kid and I walk away." He took a look around. "Am I understood?"

There was a smattering of "alright" and "that's fine by me."

"We'll head to Devil's Hole in the morning. Kid, me, Shelby, and the Cleaver twins will take the train, everybody else needs to take the trails. We'll set up meeting points and we'll bring you and your men the rest of the way when you get there. The last thing we need is for the law to see us bringing in enough men to start a war." He took a deep breath. "One man from Devil's Hole will ride with each gang. They are to report to me if any of your boys aren't willing to our terms. If you have any troublemakers, I'd advise that you either get them under control now, or send them home." He paused, looking over the men. "If you have anything to say to me, anything at all, now is the time."

When no one spoke, he turned and exited the room, Kid right behind him.

* * *

Behind the barn, Kid and Heyes addressed the members of their former gang. "Heyes and I will be taking the train back to Devil's Hole. Wheat, you'll be riding with Cleaver's boys, Kyle with Duck River, Hank with Gatlin, and Lobo you'll be riding with both the Hilltop and Hansen gang. We're depending on you to be our eyes and ears on the trail. If you hear anything, you tell us."

"We still got three boys at the Hole. They're nervous. You all riding in together might not be the smartest thing to do."

"Thank you, Lobo. We'll be careful when we get there." Looking around, he noticed for the first time, the fear in the eyes of his men. It was a look he had never seen staring back at him. "Boys, Heyes has a plan. We're not losing the hideout and every one of us is going to come out of this just fine."

"You said the same thing to Kelvin Miller." Hank spoke up. "Michael and Jacob, too."

Silence stilled the air. They had all been there, they had all seen the bodies.

"This time is different." Kid spoke, softly.

"How?"

"This time, I'm in charge." Heyes spoke up. "We will all walk away before we let that happen again. We'll let the army deal with Adams before we lose a single man."

"What about your amnesty?" Kyle asked.

Heyes tried to smile, "Don't worry about the amnesty, you boys are more important."

* * *

The train was eerily quiet, just the ramble of the rails beneath their feet. Staring out the window, Kid kept going back over their plan. Shelby and his partner had boarded the front car, the Cleaver twins the last, he and Heyes were in the middle, and their horses were all stored safely in the cattle car. The train was half-empty, a sign of good things to come – he had convinced himself.

To his right, Heyes had the most recent newspaper. Page three reported on a train robbery east of Cheyenne – all 30 passengers killed, the bandits unknown. "The Governor has requested support from the Marshall's office." Heyes read one of the lines from the article. "Senseless carnage will not be tolerated."

"Hmph." Kid muttered.

"That's all you have to say?"

He shrugged. "Gangs have killed folks as long as there's been robbin'."

"Perhaps."

Kid thought for a moment, "The boys are nervous."

"I know that."

"You figured out how to calm their nerves? A nervous gang is a dangerous gang."

"Just have to have a solid plan. Convince them that we can handle Adams."

"It's not Adams they're nervous about. You may say you are in charge, but they need to feel it."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

Kid shrugged again. "You're the leader, not me."

* * *

"That's the last of 'em." Kyle announced as Hank and the Gatlin gang rode under the cover of darkness. It took a solid week to get all the boys inside the hideout. Only moving in the dark, they had stayed up each night escorting each group in. During the day, only a handful of men were allowed out of the hideout - just long enough to collect supplies.

Devil's Hole was crowded. The barn was overrun with horses, the cabins even more so with men. It had been a dry season, any grass that would normally grow had yet to make an appearance, replaced instead by dry, hard dirt – an unforgiving bed at best. But without space in the bunkhouses, that was where most of the men slept.

Kid walked beside Heyes as they approached the leader's cabin - a temporary home for anyone that called themselves "Devil's Hole." As they reached the door, Kid opened it to allow Kyle to walk through. Closing it behind the tired outlaw, they watched as the Gatlin boys were directed to where they would be resting for the night. "Lobo heard Adams is about two day's ride from here. That isn't going to give anyone much time to rest."

"We can rest after the fighting ends."

"You still feelin' sure this is all going to work?"

"First thing in the morning, get all the boys together, make sure they know our plan. Then you and Wheat go into town. We need to make sure we have everything we need."

"And what if what you need hasn't come through?"

"It'll come through. Just make sure the boys keep their mouths shut, the last thing we need is for one of them to slip up and say something."

* * *

Twenty-two passengers, five women, three children, two workers for the line and the conductor – each murdered, execution style. "The Governor of Wyoming has declared the capture and destruction of all violent gangs his top priority. All other initiatives and agendas will be postponed until the citizens of this territory feel safe once again." Heyes read the article as Kid sat cleaning his gun to his left.

"I'm guessing one of those initiatives postponed would be our amnesty?" Kid asked as he picked up another tool from the table to his left and finished his work.

"I'm guessing your right."

Heyes thought for a moment, calculating the distance from the train robbery to the hideout. "They're less than a day from here."

"I talked to Kenneth in Harris Town, he's agreed to your plan. He's ordered everyone to stay home and the shops to close up for the next few days. 'Said the townsfolk won't like it, but they'll do it."

"Good. At least we won't have to worry about Adams killing anyone in town."

"He wasn't real thrilled at the idea of five other gangs being near."

"You gave him my word, didn't you?"

Kid gave him a disbelieving look, "Yeah, and he believes that you can keep them from robbing the bank about as much as I do."

"Will you just go get the boys?"

* * *

In the dark cabin, Heyes once again went over the plan with the leaders of the gangs. Each gang would take up a position along the routes into Devil's Hole. Guns, ammunition, water, and food had already been hauled to each spot. Each trail had been marked – a specific spot in which they were allowed to fire a warning shot. If the shot was not heeded, they could fire another, but aimed only to scare. Lives were only to be taken as a last resort, if it was required to save another.

The leaders would remain at the cabins, in case Adam's men broke through, they would deal with them one on one.

As he finished up, Shelby asked, "Let's say they get to the heart of the Hole, you and the Kid ready to do what needs to be done?"

Heyes took a deep breath, but before he could answer, Kid spoke up. "Adams is not taking Devil's Hole, not today, not ever."

As the leaders filed out of the room, Heyes spoke softly, "The boys?"

"Ready."

"Good."

Kid looked back towards the door that had just closed, "I have feeling Adams isn't the only one we're going to have to worry about."

"I have a feeling you're right."

* * *

The volley of gunfire broke through the still air. Startled, Heyes stood up from the table as Kid came in the dinner cabin. "Stan just came down, their coming from the east, fifteen of them. When our boys gave off the warning shot, they started firing in the air before they split up."

Heyes pointed to Shelby, "Get word to the others, tell them to hold their lines."

Without a word, he left the room.

Exiting the room, he double checked his revolver, fully loaded. The other leaders came out into the open. He announced, "You know what to do." Each man dispersed.

Within moments, more gunfire pierced the air, this time from the south.

"Is he sure there were only 15?" Heyes asked.

"You think I know that answer?" Kid asked, sarcastically.

In the distance, rifle fire erupted as Shelby came back. "They've broke through."

Moving to the gang cabin, Heyes knelt on the porch behind a table that sat on its side. He watched as Kid moved into his own position at the leader's cabin, followed by Shelby. The volleys increased, followed by a moment of silence. His eyes stayed trained on the main entrance, his ears listened for any sound of someone approaching.

With a nod from Kid, Heyes let out a loud whistle and the gun fire stopped. Time seemed to slow as they watched for the gang. The forest had gone eerily quiet, not a sound but the birds in the trees. They waited, and waited. Then, around the bend were three riders. Four other men trailed behind until they jumped off their horses and took into the woods.

As soon as the riders neared the cabins, Heyes called out. "That's far enough." When they didn't stop, Heyes fired his gun, hitting the ground just in front of Adam's horse.

"Wheat Carlson, I presume?" Adams asked.

"No, Hannibal Heyes."

"And Kid Curry."

The man stopped.

"If you hope to end this day without bein' introduced to St. Peter, I'd advise that you throw down your guns." Kid commanded.

"I'm not the type that takes orders."

Behind Heyes he heard a rustle, before he could react a shot rang out and the man stumbled, blood coming from his right arm. Heyes smiled a dark smile as he motioned for him to go out into the street. Turning his attention back to Adams, Heyes called out, "We have you and your men are surrounded."

"Is that so?" He scanned his surroundings, searching. "Don't tell me the great Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry are too yella to face me like men?" He laughed.

"Be glad too, but not as long as you have cowards that are ready to shoot us in the backs."

Another shot rang out as another of his men stumbled out, bleeding from the wrist, he joined his friend in the street.

"By my count, we have two more to go. If you don't want their blood spilt as well, I'd advise that you tell them to come on out."

Adams smiled. "I'll have my men come out and they'll hold their fire. But only if the Kid is willin' to find out who really is the fastest gun in the west."

Kid and Heyes shared a look, Kid nodded, yes.

"That's fine by me." Kid confirmed.

"Winner takes the Hole."

Silence stilled the air.

"Agreed." Kid declared, receiving a less than enthusiastic look in return from Heyes.

"Heyes? I want to hear it from you. I want your word that when," he stopped and chuckled, "if I take down the Kid, that you and your men will leave."

"You have my word." He stated, begrudgingly.

Adams came down of his horse and signaled for his men, who did the same. They, and the two from the bushes all stood behind their leader. Kid and Heyes equally stood, joining the men on the dirt path.

Once again, the air stilled, the two gunmen stared at each other, each face unreadable. Their hands hovered slightly over their holster, their fingers ready. Just as Heyes saw Adam's hand twitch, Kid's gun was in his hand and had fired. The bullet met its mark, Adam's wrist. As expected, each of his men unholstered their guns, but before a bullet could be fire, the sound of revolvers and rifles being readied simultaneously reverberated in the still air. On each of the rooftops, a man lay over the apex, their weapons trained at the men.

Heyes smiled.

Holding his hand tight to his chest, Adam seethed, "This isn't over Heyes."

"You made the deal. You lost."

Adams smirked.

Heyes smiled and gave a short whistle, "If you think the rest of your men will be joining you, you should know, we purposefully let them through, it made them easier to capture."

Coming around the bend, led by the other gangs, were the remainder of Adam's men, each tied and gagged.

"Tell the rest of your men to put down their guns."

As each man complied, the other leaders came down from their posts and stood behind Heyes and the Kid.

"Alright, so what now?" Adams asked.

Before he could respond, Shelby came around the corner, his gun in hand. With whip-like speed, he lifted his hand and aimed. Heyes drew – hitting him in the shoulder.

Going to him, he kept his gun on the other men, a deadly glance keeping them in line. As he stood in front of the injured man, he gave a long whistle.

Shelby seethed, "I know how you feel about killin', but do you have any idea how many he's killed? I ran with half the boys at Snake River."

"All I know is that we don't kill people."

"You aren't the leader of Devil's Hole, remember?"

Heyes smiled and pulled the coin from his breast pocket. "At this moment, I am." His eyes darkened, "Kid, tie him up before he gets any more ideas."

Down the trail, hooves beat on the dirt path. Looking up, Lom Trevors rode in the front, five men behind him – all with stars on their chests. The group was being escorted in by members of the Devil's Hole gang. Heyes turned and greeted Lom as he came off his horse.

"Is this all of them?" Lom asked.

Kid did a quick count, "Fifteen. Three are shot and could probably use a doctor."

Lom nodded to his men who went to quick work tying up the remaining men and tending to the wounds. He looked back at the other gangs, specifically a trussed up Shelby, "And them?"

"They'll be leaving tonight, going back home. We appreciate you not recognizing any of them."

"Don't mention it, I mean that." He took a deep breath as he watched his men work on securing the outlaws, "I imagine you don't plan on claimin' the reward?"

Heyes glanced back towards Shelby, "As painful as this is to say Lom, I just don't think that would be in our best interest."

"Well, I'm sure the Governor will be mighty appreciative of this."

"Are you sure you want him to know we were involved?" Kid asked.

"Well, I might massage the truth a bit."

* * *

As the sun started to fade, each gang made their slow way out of the hideout. By midnight, only Shelby and his gang remained. As they saddled up, Shelby walked up to Heyes – who was keeping watch to see them off.

"Heyes, I understand why you made peace with the law. But working with them, that's something different all together."

"Shelby, I don't expect you to understand."

"You took an oath."

"No, Big Jim took an oath."

After a tense moment,Shelby climbed into the saddle while Heyes and the Kid watched as he left - several members of Devil's Hole escorting them to the train station.

"You know, word is going to get out that we brought in the law." Kid spoke, quietly.

"I know."

"There won't be a gang in this territory that will let us hide out, if we need to."

"Perhaps."

"The law is going to hang Adams and his men, they'll be just as dead as if we'd let Shelby do it."

"Maybe."

Kid thought for a moment, "I'm glad we didn't let him."

Heyes smiled, "Same here. Now, how 'bout we go have a talk with Wheat about hiring guns."


End file.
